


Uncertain Future

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bloodplay, Dark, Dom/sub, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, The Quidditch Pitch: The Dungeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-22
Updated: 2006-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: On the eve of Voldemort’s victory, Hermione faces an uncertain future





	Uncertain Future

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

"Have you made your choice, Miss Granger?"

Choice? The very word, spoken in his low clipped drawl, caused shivers to course throughout her body. She had no choice; hadn’t since Hogwarts had fallen only a few short hours ago. Harry was dead. Ron had been dead for two months. Voldemort had won. And her only opportunity for survival now lay in accepting an unexpected offer from a man she hated.

What was the price of life? She had always assumed she’d die with Harry if he fell to Voldemort. For years, since choosing to fight beside him and support him, she had known that, if he fell, she’d fall with him. There had been hope, of course, that they would win; that good would triumph over evil and all that rot the cinemas tried to make seem common. Good didn’t always win, however; a fact that she’d had confirmed as she watched friends and classmates fall in blasts of green, purple, and orange. When she'd managed to survive, defending herself despite her realization that death was only moments away, she had found courage she’d not known she had somewhere inside.

Now, though, that stubborn desire to live had resulted in her current situation. A flash of green, and subsequent peace, sounded favorable compared to what awaited her for daring to survive. A life, short as it would be, spent as a prisoner of one of Voldemort’s lackeys. Raped, tortured, and eventually either killed or dead from hunger and pain. If she chose that course of action, attempting to escape would either result in painful death or being given to said lowly Death Eaters as a toy. But her only other option was accepting Lucius Malfoy’s offer, becoming a whore to a man who, even now, looked at her with undisguised contempt, disgust, and hatred. She was a worthy trophy, however, and that meant he wanted her. Pride dictated his actions, nothing more, and she honestly had no idea just what her life was worth to her.

If she refused Malfoy, who had first claim due to seniority in the organization, she would be given to Crabbe Senior as a reward for his murder of Ron. If she tried to escape, she would either die suddenly, which was looking like her best option, or be caught and handed over to Crabbe anyway. Only three months ago, she'd been looking forward to a future with the belief that Harry would win, that he would save them, that she would finish school, find a job she loved, and eventually get married. Now, her future consisted of hoping for death or whoring herself to a Death Eater.

Brown eyes looked towards the window, contemplating how long it would take her to cross the room and whether she could gather enough force to break the glass. She could fly away to somewhere better, close her eyes and just fall, seeing Harry and Ron and all those she lost when she opened her eyes in a place better than this. With no wand, though, and being this far from the window, she didn’t have a chance at all. Refusing to admit defeat even in dire circumstances, she kept her shoulders back, head held high, and looked at Malfoy.

"I want to live."

Her words came out stronger than she felt, brave and firm, and she knew suddenly that they were sincere. She _did_ want to live; though, depending on what life ended up becoming, she might regret this choice. She studied Malfoy a moment, wondering whether his offer was sincere, or whether he wanted her simply for the recognition of having the last living member of Potter’s little group--it was a matter of status and image; her feelings and preferences were irrelevant.

"Do you accept the offer, Miss Granger?" he demanded quietly, giving her a cold look, no emotion in his pale gray eyes at all.

"In exchange for a room with a real bed and books to read, I won’t try to escape," she whispered, imagining his idea of a proper room as something akin to a cell with a plain cot and one old book. "A real bed, Mister Malfoy, and I want new books, one a week."

He studied her a moment, finally nodding briefly. "Agreed. If you attempt to escape, you forfeit our arrangement. Rest assured, Miss Granger, I will not hesitate to make you wish for death for daring cross me. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she said softly, a chill running through her as she realized that she had just put a price on her own life. For a warm bed and books, she had given him her body and her free-will. Her mind would be her own and he could never have her soul, but, really, how long would she have either, living such a life? Looking away from him, she suddenly understood clearly what it meant when people referred to making a deal with the devil.

Cold metal suddenly touched her chin, forcing her head back to look at him. Sharp teeth of the snake that topped his cane pierced her skin hard enough to draw blood. His eyes were empty, looking at her as if she were filth, and she began to wonder if the rape and torture might not be preferable to living the short life she expected to have as a whore to this cold, unfeeling man who hated her.

"You will _never_ look away from me, Miss Granger," he said slowly, raking the snakehead down her cheek to emphasize his words. "You will have your bed and books, and I will feed you properly so that you may continue living, but your life is _mine_ now. You are nothing more than a Malfoy possession, less use than most, though I do believe I can find a few ways to enjoy you. After all, there’s very little else Muggles are good for beyond a nice, hard fuck. I wonder how your pale skin will look covered in your dirty blood, my dear."

Hearing such a vulgar word from him made the reality come crashing in, her eyes widening with panic as she took a step back, needing to get away. She couldn’t do this, could she? The only man she’d ever slept with was Ron. He had loved her and it had been wonderful because of their feelings for each other. Lucius Malfoy hated her, planned to cause pain, planned to use her as nothing more than a status symbol for respect and a warm body to fuck. How, really, was that different than Crabbe’s plans to rape and break her? One would break her physically while the other, God help her, planned to break her mentally.

"There will be none of that, Miss Granger," he snapped as he stepped forward, lips curling into a pleased smirk. " _You_ made your choice, you filthy little whore, so I will not stand for thoughts of escape. I believe you need a lesson to remind you that you are now mine."

Before she could protest, he had sent her against the bed, a wave of his wand opening a bureau drawer and levitating a handful of house ties to the bed. One fastened around her wrists, securing them to the head of the bed, two others securing each ankle, spreading her legs obscenely wide.

"If I hear the word ‘no’ on your lips, I will make you regret ever learning how to speak," he told her casually, his hands removing his robe, trousers, and shirt. Soon, he was naked, his cock half-hard, and his wand in his hand. "This was your choice, Miss Granger. There will be no cries of rape or other silly outbursts. I am merely enjoying my new possession and, if you’re fortunate, I will give you permission to enjoy yourself as well."

A flick of his wand left her naked, her lips firmly shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of whimpering or asking him to stop. She could feel tears in her eyes as he looked at her as if she were rubbish, disgust evident in his sneer, though his cock twitched and began to harden so she at least had the satisfaction of knowing his body reacted to her, which really meant nothing except it might not be as rough as it could be.

"I can see why Weasley was so enamored of you, Miss Granger. I’ve no doubt he saw your hips and realized you were perfect for birthing a dozen redheaded vermin to infest the world. It’s a pity he died before he was able to see you lying here ready to fuck me in exchange for a book," he said with a trace of amusement. He moved his wand around her nipple, flicking it until it finally began to harden, much to her shame. He seemed delighted with that, smirking again. "You should feel quite special, Miss Granger. I never sully myself with Mudbloods, yet I’ve made an exception for you. As you are the closest thing to Potter remaining alive in this world of ours, I shall take great joy in making you scream my name."

The wand moved down her stomach, her eyes following it as she began to struggle against the tie holding her wrists. She cried out as he suddenly shoved it into her hard, the smooth wood rubbing against her dryness, poking her until she felt liquid against her lips, knowing it was blood without even looking. That was confirmed when he spoke.

"Messy little Mudblood," he tsked as he kept moving the wand. "You’ll stain your sheets with that dirty blood of yours. My, it does look lovely against that pale skin."

She felt tears on her cheeks as he kept ramming it into her, his wrist turning it this way and that, her fingernails digging into her palms.

When he pulled it out, he held it up so she could see the bloody wetness that betrayed her body’s response to the constant stimulation. "Did you know that a woman’s vaginal blood was considered quite powerful in the days of my Grandfather? A virgin’s blood was the most potent, of course, but I wouldn’t expect a dirty creature such as yourself to have remained pure when there were boys and Weasleys willing to rut with you. The blood is still rather powerful, so they say, and especially during menstruation. Once you’ve carried a child, the power passes along and the blood is useless for such rituals. I believe I shall begin every meeting between us by gathering your blood in this way. Perhaps next time I shall use my cane, stretch you wide and let it scrape against you until the blood is flowing freely."

He laughed softly when he saw the horror in her eyes, a smooth thumb brushing away a tear, his expression hardening as she blinked away more. "Well, this won’t do. While I enjoy the sight of your thighs covered in blood and arousal," he said, stressing the last to remind her of her body’s reaction, "I refuse to allow your mind to twist this into rape. You _will_ beg me to fuck you, Miss Granger. That is a promise."

The world went dark as he waved his wand, her favorite scarf, the one Harry got her last year to wear to the Quidditch games, wrapping around her head to block her vision. Before she could react to the panic of being bound and blindfolded, wet lips enveloped her nipple. Long fingers moved between her legs, stroking and teasing, soft hair brushing against her chest and ribs as his mouth moved against her breasts.

"Such a filthy little whore," he muttered darkly, his fingers moving deeper into her, her hips unconsciously raising to take them even as she screamed inside her head to stop, to not react. "This is your future, Miss Granger. Nothing but my whore, so eager for my touch that you willingly open your legs and beg me to come inside you. Having my cock will be a reward, my dear. If you displease me, I will use my cane or allow others to partake of your tight cunt."

Hermione heard herself begging after he’d teased her in that way for a while. She hated him, didn’t want him inside her, but her body was aroused and he played it so perfectly, knowing exactly where to touch and lick. When she whispered, "Please," he laughed cruelly before sliding his hard cock inside her.

He fucked her without care, using her as nothing more than a means of release, his hands bruising her skin, vulgar words in her ear as he moved in and out, aided by her blood and pre-come. Her final descent, the last strength and desire to hang on to the knowledge of who she really was, before this War and this choice, slid away from her as she felt her body beginning to tense. She could never escape this now…this was her life until he allowed her to die. If she fell now, there would be no opening her eyes to find her loved ones. She was no longer worthy of them, trading her body just to survive, losing herself in the process.

"Come for me, Miss Granger," he demanded, raspy voice thick with arousal against her ear. "Beg me to come inside you. Ask me nicely to reward you with my seed, to drench that tight Mudblood cunt with my come."

"Pl-please," she stammered, eyes blinking behind the blindfold, shame replacing the fear and uncertainty, "please come in me, Sir."

"Not good enough, my dear," he chuckled darkly. "Say it like the filthy little whore you are, tell me what you want."

_I want Harry to be alive. I want to marry Ron and have a family. I want the future that was taken from me!_

"I want you come to come inside my dirty Mudblood cunt," she whispered, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. He growled softly, the blindfold suddenly pulled away, his smile triumphant as he buried himself inside her and came, spilling into her and dripping out with each pull. His fingers twisted her clit, thumb rubbing, and then she fell over the edge, eyes rolling back as she came.

Falling felt nice, forgetting everything except the pleasure that was rolling over her sweaty body, but she eventually had to open her eyes again, reality crashing around her.

"Good girl," he said condescendingly, pulling out of her and wiping himself on her nearby skirt. He dressed and then released the ties holding her to the bed. "Follow me closely, Miss Granger. Eyes on me the entire time, of course. No, you will not dress. I want them to see you covered in sweat, blood, and come. There will be no debate over whom you belong to when they look at you as I’ve marked you as mine. Now, come along. I do not tolerate disobedience or laziness."

Hermione looked at the window as she rolled off the bed, her body weak and tired, showing evidence of the curses she’d been hit with earlier as well as the fucking he’d just put her through. Perhaps one day she would be free again. It was possible, wasn’t it? There had to be hope even in the darkest of defeats. Sighing softly, she followed him, stepping over the bodies of Parvati and Ginny before leaving her dorm. With each step she took, the past was left behind as she walked into an uncertain future.

The End


End file.
